


why am i doing this

by cherryistired



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Oops! All OCs - Freeform, The End, The Usher Foundation, and that's the entity of the statement sooo, literally my brain fixating on archival assistants taking statements, not a statement fic but there's a statement, original nb character - Freeform, title is the wip title i had for my google doc but then i realized it fits anywyas, using ocs for it tho instead of canon characters because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryistired/pseuds/cherryistired
Summary: An archival assistant takes a statement at the Usher Foundation.(Or, I thought too hard about Martin's statement taking abilities between MAG 100 and MAG 142, and threw my thoughts on an OC instead.)
Kudos: 6





	why am i doing this

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Hey brain, wouldn't it be nice to start working on some of those fanfic ideas I had for one of those fandoms I like-  
> My brain: No. We're getting into The Magnus Archives and writing oc fic that no one will read. Fuck you.
> 
> Curse you Jonny for writing the best horror podcast known to man.

They hate taking statements.

They sit down at the designated statement-taking desk and lean under it to hit the power button on the ancient computer tower. The statement giver, a gangly, boring looking man in his late 30s, is still standing awkwardly, so they wave a hand towards the seat across from them. “Make yourself comfortable. It’ll be a minute or two before the computer boots up.” They flip open the statement application form, not watching as he takes his seat.

David Garnett, according to the file, is the man’s name. They gloss over the contact information - lives in Pottstown, PA, bit of a drive but not bad - down to the statement summary: “ _I’m being haunted by my dead sister._ ” Original. Nothing on the form is out of the ordinary. Nothing on the form jumps out as needing to be dealt with immediately, either.

“Looks old,” Garnett says, motioning to the computer.

They hum in acknowledgement.

Objectively speaking, there’s no reason for any of the archival staff to take live statements. There’s a perfectly acceptable written statement form, and the statements taken on paper are much more coherent and full of detail than the ones taken via interview. Something about having to actually write out their thoughts must give statement givers a chance to actually remember what happened, even the ones that ramble before getting to the point.

Unfortunately, enough statement givers prefer ranting into a microphone over giving themselves hand cramps, so the interview format has stuck around. Usually there’s a bit of a gap between applying to give a statement and actually giving it, so there’s time to schedule someone to take the statement. This time, though, Garnett somehow managed to convince someone upstairs that his statement needs to be taken immediately. Andrew is too busy being the Head Archivist to stoop so low as to actually take a statement himself; that’s what the archival assistants are for, apparently. Of the assistants, Frank’s recording a problem statement today and Sarah’s out following up a (different) statement, so they find themselves the only one available to take the surprise statement.

The two of them sit there for a few more minutes, waiting for the computer to boot, then waiting for the audio program to open. Once everything for a new file is set up, they move the microphone from its spot next to the computer screen to the center of the desk.

“Speak into that when we get started,” they say, pointing at the microphone.

“R-right.” Garnett nods and leans forward slightly, trying to reach the microphone better.

They hit the record button and begin speaking. “Statement of David Garnett, regarding a haunting. Statement given October 7th, 2018. Statement taken directly from subject by Jay Taylor, archival assistant at the Usher Foundation. Statement begins.”

There’s a beat of silence as they wait for Garnett to start, before they speak again. “So, you’re being haunted by your-”

A loud squeal of static cuts them off, and they jump slightly away from the computer. The screen glitches and shuts off.

“...Maybe administration will finally replace this old thing now,” they say, trying to catch their breath.

It might seem surprising to anyone who doesn’t work in the archives, but a glitch like this is not an uncommon occurrence. Andrew’s attempts at setting up a digital index of the archives has led to the discovery that some statements just don’t work digitally. Any attempts to record, type up, or dictate more than the most basic information from these statements will cause the computer to glitch, freeze, or shut down. One statement in particular killed Frank’s original laptop; he had to buy a new one before he would admit anything was wrong with it.

The archival staff call these statements “problem statements”. And this assistant in particular hates them more than they hate taking live statements.

They’ve never actually taken a problem statement live before. A few new problem statements have been submitted since they’ve started working in the archives, but it was always either through the written form or through one of the other assistants. Problem statements are draining in their own way, though, so they’re sure this is going to be uniquely awful.

They let out the breath they’re holding and briefly entertain the idea of dragging Andrew out here to do this himself. They know he’ll refuse again, though, and someone has to do it, so instead they check the drawers. A tape recorder, already equipped with a fresh tape, sits in the top drawer. The only thing that problem statements will record to. At least they won’t have to leave Garnett alone while hunting one down.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” They pull out the tape recorder and set it in the center of the desk, moving the microphone back next to the broken computer screen. Garnett raises an eyebrow at this.

“And if this breaks too, we’ve still got the written statement forms,” they say, and he concedes.

They hit the record button and repeat the opening. “Statement of David Garnett, regarding an alleged haunting by his sister. Statement taken directly from subject on October 7th, 2018. Audio recorded by Jay Taylor, archival assistant at the Usher Foundation.” They pause, bracing themselves. “Statement begins.”

The silence hangs in the air between them as absolutely nothing happens. They don’t feel anything unusual in the slightest, save for Garnett’s awkwardness. They didn’t expect that.

After a few more moments of continued nothing, they speak. “Uh, so. You’re being haunted.”

“Uh, yes. By my-my sister.”

“...And you’re sure it’s her?”

“Well, it- y’know- it sounds like her.”

“Okay... What’s your sister’s name?”

“Laura.”

“Last name?”

“Garnett- Laura Garnett.”

“...Never married?”

“Uh, no.”

They sigh. They’re half tempted to just let him go now; they can tell they’re not going to get anywhere with him. The way he’s answering with very short stammered answers isn’t going to get any better when they get to the meat of the story. They fully expect it to get worse. Plus, Garnett seems less confident in his story than most of the non-problem statements, which leads them to discount it.

They’re not even sure if this is a real problem statement. The computer may have acted up, sure, but they don’t feel… watched. Every time they’ve read over a problem statement, they feel the eyes of someone or some _thing_ on them, but that’s been curiously absent now. Though, it does make sense, since that feeling probably just comes from their own anxiety of someone potentially listening to their voice after they record the statement. Since they’re taking a live statement instead of reading over someone else’s, it’s a completely different situation. With Garnett sitting here across from them, they’d feel his eyes on them, not some… other thing’s.

Still, they continue, begrudgingly. “So. Your sister. Laura. What does she do?”

“Oh- she, well, calls me.”

“She… calls to you?”

“No- no she _calls_ me. On the- on the phone.”

“Right.” They sigh again. “So you’ve talked to her then.”

“No, she just- leaves voicemails.”

“You never pick up for her?”

“I don’t- well- they’re usually telemarketers, unknown numbers are… and that’s- she calls from one too, so...”

They nod. “...When did Laura die?”

“April, last year. Bad- real bad car crash.”

“Did anyone else survive?”

“N-no. The other driver- they died too.”

“Right. And when did you get the first voicemail from her?”

“A- a few months ago? June, I-I think.”

“...Do you still have the first one? Could you check the date?”

“No, I- uh, I left my phone at home.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t want her to- to interrupt.”

A beat of silence.

“I-I still have it, though. Never- haven’t deleted any of them.”

“It might have been useful to play a few to the tape.”

“Uh, not- not really. They’re mostly just- static. I can’t under- can’t hear much of what she says.”

“Okay.”

The clipped way Garnett talks about his “haunting” is annoying them. If they were feeling generous, they might say that he’s just feeling uncomfortable talking about it, or his sister’s death, but right now it just makes him seem like he was making it up. He's just bad at lying. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he shouldn’t have asked for it to be taken immediately.

They continue regardless. “What does she say?”

“N- normal stuff?”

“Like…?”

“Uh.. ‘it’s cold’, ‘it hurts’, a lot- a lot about death… Normal- uh, haunting stuff.”

“Of course.”

“...It’s- it was- would be normal for her, too. She used to talk about- loved to come up with ways that we might, m-might die. She always- she was pretty morbid like- like that.”

“Right.” They pause. “Did… did she talk about your death?”

“Oh-uh, once.”

“On one voicemail?”

“Yeah, just- just the one time. She usually- it’s normally about other people.”

“Other… people’s…?”

“Deaths, yeah- how they’re- when they’ll die.”

“...Is she accurate?”

“I-I don’t- I mean- most of them... they haven’t died y-yet. ...Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Yeah, uh. Abby- she died just-”

“Full name, please.”

“Uh, Abigail Gant. A-a college friend we knew. Died just like- when she- w-when my sister said she would.”

“And how did she die?”

“Salmonella. Must’ve- ate some poorly cooked ch-chicken, uh, somewhere.”

“That was when?”

“...Last week?”

Hearing that, they made their mind up. There’s no way that actually happened with how uncertain he is. They’ve tried to be professional about it, but it’s bothering them too much. They know they shouldn’t call him out on tape, but they think they’ve earned a petty question or two.

“Did you not try to warn her when you got the call? Or were you not afraid?”

As soon as the question leaves their mouth, the hairs on the back of their neck raise and they tense their shoulders unconsciously. _Now_ they feel watched.

Garnett furrows his brow. “No, of course I was afraid… but I didn’t want to believe it. None of us did. I mentioned it to Abby, warned her not to eat any chicken, but the call came in months before she was supposed to die. We all just took it as a joke.”

Something has changed. They don’t know why, or how, but he’s being more articulate than before. They’re still very aware of the eyes on them. They pressed further. “We?”

“Yes, the 7 of us mentioned in the voicemails,” Garnett continued, voice shaking slightly. “She’s only called 7 times so far, and each voicemail she left was about an hour long. I didn’t think my phone could hold voicemails that long. They were mostly static; I almost deleted the first one I got, when I heard her voice. It was difficult to hear, to parse out through the static, but she always eventually said a name, a date, and a cause of death.”

Something’s wrong. As much as they appreciate his new-found eloquence, they can’t stand being watched. It’s more intense somehow. They ask one more question to wrap it up. “If you didn’t believe it was real, why come to us now?”

He took a shaky breath. “I want to make my statement. Get a record out there that this actually happened to me. Talk about it to someone who would listen. Just in case I do actually die on the 18th.”

“Alright then, you’ve done that well enough,” they say, standing abruptly. “Statement ends.” They jab their finger on the recorder, shutting it off. The eyes leave the back of their neck.

They spend a moment catching their breath, then turn to Garnett. He’s pale and shaking ever so slightly. He looks like he might be about to cry.

“...Okay,” they say eventually, standing up straight. “Thank you for giving your statement, Mr. Garnett. We’ll follow it up as best as we can and contact you if we find anything. Exit’s that way.” They motion towards the door on the other side of the room, then they grab the tape recorder and leave.

They _really_ hate taking statements.


End file.
